Page 149 of Pull Me Under

Silence on the other end of the phone. I can practically hear Kit recalibrating, trying to make sense of this new information.

‘You what now? What on earth is going on over there? I leave for a few weeks and suddenly you’re – who is she? Do I know her?’

I’m walking toward Brynn, still grinning like an idiot. She’s frozen in place, staring at me, and God – the look on her face. Like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing.

It’s so much better to say these things out loud. So much easier than I thought it would be. I should have done this weeks ago – stood in the middle of the harbour and shouted it for everyone to hear.

‘I’m in love with Brynn Trelawney. Deal with it.’

‘Jude.’ Kit’s voice is insistent. ‘Brynn? Trelawney⁠—’

‘I’ll explain everything later,’ I cut in. ‘Promise. It’s just⁠—’

I’m two steps away from her when Frankie comes running through the door, his grey hair windblown, eyes wide, skin an ashen pale.

‘Jude! Jude!’

Bill’s right behind him, breathing hard.

‘It’s your dad.’ Frankie’s got a hand pressed to his chest, wheezing. ‘He’s collapsed. Down on the dock. Cal’s with him, ambulance is coming, but⁠—’

The world tilts.

Kit’s shouting in my ear – ‘What? What’s happening? Jude, talk to me!’ – but I’m already running. Out of the boat shed, down the hill toward the harbour, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I round the corner and see them.

Dad’s on the ground, flat on his back on the wet dock. Cal’s kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding a phone. A small crowd has gathered – Dot clutching her shopping bag, a couple of tourists who don’t know where to look – but they all blur into one.

‘Dad.’ I skid to my knees beside him. The dock is cold and wet through my jeans. ‘Dad, can you hear me?’

His eyes are open. Staring at the sky. Not seeing me.

‘Jude?’ Kit’s voice. Tinny, distant. I forgot I was still holding the phone.

‘It’s Dad. I’ll call you back.’

‘Jude, wait⁠—’

I hang up and feel for a pulse, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t feel a damn thing. Is he breathing?

Is my dad fucking breathing?

I focus on his chest. How long does a breath take. It feels like I’m watching for hours.

Cal’s talking down the phone, but his words are jumbled. Compressions. Starting. Breaths.

He knocks me out of the way and starts to push the palms of his hands against Dad’s chest.

I should have done that. But I’m just staring. Staring. Staring. Staring.

Brynn kneels at my side, I feel her, but I’m still just staring.

The helicopter appears over the headland within minutes – that’s what they say, isn’t it, twelve minutes from anywhere in Cornwall – and then there’s controlled chaos. Paramedics in red jumpsuits, a stretcher, words I half-understand. Stabilising. Airlifting. Treliske. They take over from Cal, hooking my dad up to a life pack.

‘I’m coming with him,’ I say.

The paramedic shakes her head. ‘No room. You’ll need to drive. Royal Cornwall Hospital, Truro. A&E.’